by E. J. Blaine
“About time we got some help,” Doc said. She was mixing reagents and chemicals into glass flasks and stuffing the necks with cloth. “This should cause some trouble,” she said, showing one to Jack with a nasty laugh. She packed several of the flasks into another bag, slung it over her shoulder, and picked up the MP-18. “Ready,” she said.
“We go for one of the planes,” Jack answered, and threw open the door.
Outside, Jack led the way down the row of tents toward the airstrip. There were fewer figures running around now, and the air held the chemical smell of dissolving Silver Star dead. Ahead of them the two airplanes sat side by side. But then one of them started its engine and edged out onto the airstrip.
“Oh, no,” said Jack. “No, no, no.” He started running. If that plane got airborne, the pilot could strafe the camp, fire through tents. Their chances of survival were about to drop dramatically.
The pilot had opened the throttle all the way, and Jack could hear the engine race. He snapped off a couple shots at it, but to no effect.
“Lighter!” Doc shouted. “Give me your lighter!”
Jack dug in his pocket for it and thrust it at her. She lit the cloth in one of her flasks. The plane was gathering speed, bouncing toward them down the crude dirt airstrip. Doc cocked her arm, ran a few paces, and hurled the flask. It tumbled in a long, high arc toward the plane.
Then there was a flash, and the plane seemed to simply erupt into a ball of fire. Jack knew how vulnerable the dope covered fabric was to flame. Even more than bullets, fire had been a pilot’s greatest fear during the war.
The plane veered off course, bounced off the airstrip into the grass and came to a stop, already an inferno. There was no way the pilot could have made it out. Already the skeleton of the wings was collapsing. The plane was a pyre. Its twin sat intact at the end of the airstrip. It was now the only way out of the valley, Jack realized.
Doc turned back to him with a grin. Jack nodded. “Try not to do that to the other one,” he said.
Then they turned and headed back into the camp, toward the sporadic bursts of gunfire.
###
Aboard the Luftpanzer, Maria Blutig returned to the radio room. This time the crew wasn’t expecting her, and they hurriedly flew to attention as she stormed into the small cabin.
“Raise Shambala Base,” she snapped.
“We have been trying, mein Führerin,” the senior man said nervously. “They missed their last scheduled radio check and are not responding to us.”
She bit the inside of her lip but kept her demeanor icy and calm. It was necessary that the crew see her as unshakeable, but this was bad. The Luftpanzer had been on station outside the entrance to the valley for almost half an hour now. The plane she had expected to meet them, the plane carrying Jack McGraw, had not been there. Now this. Something had gone wrong. Ardinger and a force of nearly fifty trained soldiers should have been able to handle one man, but Maria had learned that nothing went quite as it should when Jack McGraw was involved.
The junior man was on the headphones, adjusting his equipment and tapping out the recognition code on his key. Suddenly he turned.
“Voice channel! I have something!”
He unplugged his headphones and hit a switch. The sounds of gunfire erupted from the speakers.
“Luftpanzer, Luftpanzer, this is Shambala Base! We are under attack!”
It was a nervous, young voice, obviously unfamiliar with radio protocols. Where were the radio officers? Where was Ardinger?
“This is Maria Blutig,” she snapped. “Who is sending? Where is Captain Ardinger?”
There was some kind of scuffle, then Ardinger came on.
“Ardinger here, mein Führerin. We are under attack, I believe by AEGIS reinforcements. Most of my men are dead. I have fallen back to the radio shack, and we are holding for now. But our situation is desperate.”
“What about McGraw?” She felt a cold rage growing in the pit of her stomach.
“McGraw and Starr are free and participating in the assault,” Ardinger said. “Both pilots on base are dead, and one plane is destroyed.”
“How many attackers in total, Captain? How did they get into the valley?”
“Unknown, mein Führerin. Snipers are firing from the southern ridge. I sent a commando team to root them out, but have lost contact.”
It was exactly as grim as she expected. There was one last thing to confirm.
“What is the status of Dr. Mencken?”
There was a pause. Maria heard shouting and a burst of gunfire in the background.
“Unknown, mein Führerin,” Ardinger said again, in the tone of a man who knew he was calling down his own doom.
“Stand by, Shambala base,” she said.
There was a pause, then Ardinger replied, “I understand.”
She turned to the radio men. “Clear the room, please,” she said softly. The two men saluted and withdrew, not quite able to hide the relief on their faces. The second closed the door behind him, and she was alone.
Someone was breaking down over the speaker. She heard fear, then Ardinger shouting, “Hold your position god damn you, or I’ll kill you myself!”
She unsnapped a leather pouch on her belt and withdrew a carved metal medallion with several long, thin metal chains hanging from it. The medallion was very old. It was tarnished and marked both by time and by several failed attempts to destroy it. Maria quivered with anticipation as she pressed it to the back of her left hand and carefully wrapped the chains. This one around her wrist, this one around these fingers, one around the thumb and back to fasten here. It was a ritual she knew well, the movements almost automatic.
There was nothing else to do now, she knew. Mencken was Ardinger’s primary responsibility. If he didn’t know where Mencken was, then the doctor was surely dead. And with him, the project. They had gotten what they could from it. Crowley would be disappointed, as she was, but there would be new opportunities, new avenues of attack.
On the radio, Ardinger began to lead his men in the Silver Star anthem. They were ragged at first, but soon the words rang loud and clear—words of strength, words of revenge. The Silver Star could never fall for its strength was never truly lost.
Maria closed her eyes and murmured words of her own—ancient words in a language no longer spoken on this world. She made a complex gesture with her left hand, wrapped in its delicate filigree of chain, and she felt the medallion begin to tingle against her skin. The ancient chant built to its climax, and she let out a loud gasp as she drew her hand back into a fist that gathered everything into its grasp.
The radio fell silent.
A moment later, Maria Blutig gasped as she felt the rush of power and almost sexual pleasure wash over her.
###
Jack and Doc crouched behind the corner of a storage shed, trading fire with the last of Ardinger’s forces in the radio building. The only remaining Silver Star soldiers were inside there now. Jack estimated there were perhaps a dozen. They’d fought their way back here, killing several as they came. And their mysterious ally was still out there somewhere. Jack had no idea who it was, but he hoped it was Deadeye. Certainly he had Deadeye’s skill as a sniper, and he’d been watching over them as they fought their way through the Silver Star troops. Whenever someone had gotten too close to them, rifle shots had removed the threat.
Now there was only sporadic fire from the building’s windows, and it didn’t look like their own shots were penetrating the plaster and metal mesh walls. It was a standoff.
Jack was considering how to get Ardinger to surrender when the building’s door suddenly flew open, and a figure dashed out. Doc leveled her MP-18, and was about to cut him down, but then she stopped herself. The man was unarmed and paying no attention to them at all. He sprinted away, heading for a stand of trees a few hundred yards away. Doc raised the MP-18’s muzzle and let him go.
Then, as they watched, the man seemed to erupt into smoke. One moment he was running
hard for the distant trees. The next there was a puff of greenish smoke, and the man’s bones clattered to the ground and lay there, wrapped in his Silver Star uniform.
“What in the world?” Doc said, uncomprehending. “Was he shot?”
“No,” said Jack. “He just…”
The gunfire had stopped. Jack and Doc looked at each other. What in the world was going on?
“Captain?” Jack shouted. “Are you ready to give up? All of you throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up!”
The only reply was the wind. It banged the door of the radio shack against its frame.
Jack and Doc leveled their weapons and walked slowly toward the building. When they reached the door, Doc used the muzzle of her gun to catch the edge of the door and pull it open.
Then she looked inside and gasped.
Jack moved around the door frame and looked in himself.
They were all dead. Nothing was left of the last of the Silver Star troops but bones, uniforms, and dropped weapons.
“What happened?” Doc asked in a small voice.
Jack put away his gun. “We won,” he said. “That’s what.”
Then Jack heard a whistle, loud and shrill. They turned and saw a figure approaching from the south. A lone man with a rifle. He thrust the gun away and dropped it as he walked into the remains of the camp. This must be the man who’d saved him, Jack realized, who’d saved them both.
“Oh, my God!” said Doc.
As the man came into view, Jack’s confusion only grew.
“You two all right?” Christopher Rhys asked with a smile.
Chapter 23
Doc rushed to embrace Rhys but then stopped short.
“Christopher?” she said. “How? We saw you…”
“I’m not sure where to start,” said Rhys.
“You couldn’t have survived that!” said Doc. Rhys didn’t have a scratch on him, Jack noticed.
Rhys nodded. “I know. You’ll want your .45s, Jack. They’re in Captain Ardinger’s safe. This way.”
“Uh, okay.” Jack had indeed been wondering where his guns were. Rhys led them toward the command building.
“I remember the airplane,” Rhys said as they walked. “I remember falling. I knew I was going to die.” He stopped and let out a breath. “I remember hitting the rocks.”
After a moment, he started walking again. “It was night when I woke up. I was covered in blood, and I hurt like hell. The Tarasque was next to me. Very dead. But I was alive, and I knew you needed my help so I came to help you.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” said Jack. “For a medical man, you make a hell of a sniper. My friend Charlie Dalton couldn’t have done any better, and we call him ‘Deadeye.’ So thank you. I mean that. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful at all. But this doesn’t make any sense, and I’d really like to know what’s going on.”
“Can’t fault you for that,” said Rhys.
When they reached the command building, Rhys led them into Ardinger’s office. A safe sat in the corner behind his desk, covered in boards to form a makeshift table.
Rhys knelt beside the safe. “I can’t explain it,” he said, “not completely anyway. Let me demonstrate. To be clear, I didn’t see Ardinger put your guns in this safe.” He closed his eyes and placed the fingertips of one hand gently on the door. “And he certainly didn’t tell me the combination.”
Rhys took a breath and held it. Then he slowly turned the dial. They were all silent, listening to the soft ticking of the dial. Rhys stopped and turned it the other way. Then he rubbed his fingertips together for a moment and turned it once more. Finally he stopped, opened his eyes, let out the breath he was holding, and opened the door.
Inside, on top of a stack of supply lists, was Jack’s gun belt with his twin .45s secure in their holsters. Jack and Doc traded a look as Rhys handed the guns to Jack.
“When I came to, it was the dead of night,” Rhys said. “I got out of the gorge by climbing those cliffs in pitch darkness. I just knew where to put my hands. And yes, I’ve fired a rifle before, in basic training. But I can assure you, my squad mates did not call me ‘Deadeye.’ Something happened to me. Something remarkable.”
“Christopher!” Doc said suddenly, “When was the last time you had a shot?”
“The morning before we went hunting for civets,” Rhys answered. “Don’t worry, the poison’s cleared. I’m in no danger.”
He led them outside, and they looked around at the wreckage of the camp. The remains of fallen soldiers lay scattered on the ground, the last faint wisps of smoke rising from the bones.
“The mother of medicines!” Doc said suddenly. “The Long Walker talked about it. Did you—”
“He told you?” Rhys said in surprise. “He must have liked you a great deal. He hinted and talked around it for months with me.”
Jack struggled to remember exactly what the Long Walker had said. “Enlightenment,” he said, “and bodily perfection. Are you saying…”
“There’s no way I could have survived that fall,” Rhys said. “But I did. I don’t know if I can die now. I heal with incredible speed. And I know things. I knew how to climb a cliff in the dark. I pointed a rifle at a man hundreds of yards away, and I felt the path of the bullet connecting before I ever pulled the trigger. I didn’t miss a single shot. Missing never entered my mind.”
It sounded impossible, but there Rhys was. He’d survived the fall. He’d gotten out of the canyon. He’d killed those Silver Star soldiers. Jack didn’t have a better explanation.
“We have to get you to a lab!” Doc said. “Blood samples, tissue types. Were you tracking your solution levels over time? Christopher, do you have any idea how big this will be? We can save so many people!”
Rhys shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “It’s ironic, really. I had to purge the DL-95 to survive outside the valley. Now if I leave, I have no idea what will happen. And you have to leave now. There’s no knowing how long you have before the Silver Star returns. And that plane won’t carry three. Am I right, Jack?”
“Even two’s hard enough,” Jack admitted. “I can’t fly you both out at once.”
“Then you’ll come back for him!” Doc cried. “Jack, we can’t just leave him!”
“It’s not that simple,” Rhys said as they walked toward the airstrip. “The outside world’s learning about this place. They’ll be coming. Some will be like you, but a lot of them will be more like the Silver Star. Think about it, Dorothy! Say you figure out what happened to me. Say you cure polio and cancer and tuberculosis—say you cure everything! Do you really think it would stop there? Do you think the world’s ready for what would come after that? I have to stay here. At least until I understand what’s happened to me.”
Doc was on the verge of tears. “What about the Silver Star? What will you do when they come to retake this place?”
Rhys said simply, “I’ll stop them.”
###
Maria Blutig stood on the Luftpanzer’s bridge, looking out across the mountains. The only sounds were the drone of the engines and the occasional click of a switch.
Captain Ecke sat brooding in his chair. Ecke was the Luftpanzer’s Captain in principle, but of course that meant nothing when Maria was aboard. He was an old-school military man, gruff and stoic. She knew he considered it his duty to rein in her more aggressive impulses, to be the voice of reason, the angel on her shoulder. He was competent and loyal, so she tolerated it. But now even he was silent. Captain Ecke knew better than to deny her when Jack McGraw was involved.
She felt the faint bump as one of the fighters disconnected from its launch crane. A moment later, the small plane flew out from beneath the hull and raced ahead to join its fellows.
“All planes are away,” Ecke said.
Maria’s orders had been unequivocal. They were to destroy anything that moved. That specifically included the two fighters they’d left at the base. If either of those planes was airborne, it
was no longer friendly. There were no friendly forces remaining at Shambala Base. She’d made sure of that herself.
Ahead, the four remaining fighters were forming up outside the canyon that led to Shambala Base. When they were ready, the leader headed into the canyon and the others followed.
Maria had loved a man once. Love had filled her heart until it spilled over. She dreamed of the better world she would make for the child they would have. But the war had taken him from her, and now the world would know the strength of her love through the unfathomable depth of her rage.
The most guilty of course was Jack McGraw, the man who pulled the trigger. But that was only the beginning. There was the officer who ordered the sortie, the men who started the war, the women who birthed monstrous children that grew up to make a world of poison gas and carnage and airplanes falling in flames from the sky. From one end of the Earth to the other, nobody was innocent. In the end, Maria would punish them all.
Not even her own troops were innocent. Their loss was nothing to regret. It was just another small part of her grand vengeance. She’d seen the entire garrison of Shambala Base destroyed. What difference four more pilots and their flimsy airplanes?
“Move us closer to the canyon mouth,” she snapped suddenly. A crewman actually jumped at the sound of her voice. They rushed to carry out the order.
If she couldn’t reach into the valley and pluck Jack McGraw out, then she would make the place his tomb.
“Captain Ecke, prepare the field guns for firing.”
###
Jack, Doc, and Rhys had loaded the poison samples and research notes aboard the Silver Star fighter. Jack had confirmed that the fuel tanks were topped off and the flight controls were working properly. The radio was operable; even the machine guns’ ammo bays were fully loaded. There was nothing else to do; the plane was ready to fly.
